-- Steps slight against ground, nose raised to the skies, breath caught in unwilling lungs, ichor dripping from ragged cuts slicing down flank, nose dripping with thick ichor, tongue coated by life essence. Shoulders aching as he clenched onto the body of a buck on his back, heading down the track before himself.  Luckily, his hunt and trip had been successful. He could already feel the chill arising from the split in the ground in front of him, gaping maw of the tunnel system making his coat bristle. He had been with the group for quite a long time, since he was in his fourth year. Coming in at eleven years, he couldn’t blame the younger members for looking at him so strangely – he was certain that he bore a few gray hairs on his chin.

Mindful of the spear resting on his back, he exhaled firmly as he dragged the buck to the side, to butcher it and carve it into portions. He couldn’t bring it in without processing it somewhat. Could probably sell it for galleons later. First and foremost, he was attempting to bring food to the Foreman and the pups. The pups were young, and he knew that Hungrydogs was busy more oft than not – he wasn’t going to starve his groupmates even if some were terrified of his brutal ways.

Setting the buck down, he reached for the knife resting at his hip, pulling it from its sheath to portion out the meat and save the skin for curing later. Grunting as he rolled the chunks in salt for preservation, he picked up a haunch and headed of on Hungrydog's scent trail, knowing that his scent would be enough to chase off any NPCs daring to try their luck against the Mad Dog. Paws slipping into grooves in the path of the tunnel, darkness swallowed the epicyon as he traveled inwards, tracking the foreman by scent alone over the tantalizing scent of the fresh venison hung in his maw. Reaching an intersection in the tunnels, he paused to re-adjust his grip on the heavy leg he carried by a quick toss of his head into the air, catching it with a crunch of the thigh bone. Cursing inwardly as the taste of the meat washed over his tongue, swallowing back his own hunger as he took the right hand path.

Emerging into a broad cave, the Silver Cove, he set the meat down to lick his lips of the juices that spilled from the meat, sniffing the air as he did so before frowning. Surprised by the trickle of heat against the back of his left foreleg, he picked up his paw to lap up the blood, thinking it the deer’s and not his own. His coat surely held some of the deer’s essence, having carried it on his back. Cursed by the inability to feel pain, he was unaware that the ichor he was cleansing from his leg was his own. Tipping his head up, he cleared his throat with a short growl, “Hungrydogs!”, he would call out, crimson eyes glancing over those in the Cove, wordlessly daring them to come and take the meat.

With winter setting in, he wasn’t going to pass up a chance to feed his youngest groupmates and their sire. Shaking his pelt out, he felt his head begin to spin, confusion at the front of his mind, baring his teeth at the NPCs that grew excited at the sight of the brute looking faint. Exhaling, he resolved to let his mind wander briefly to days long past, remembering some of the cruel words spoken of him. Very few dared to throw bones with Hungrydogs, not only because of his own abilities, but because of the barbarian that stuck close to his side, acting as a shadow guard.